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Dawa Kali

At the end of the war in Europe, we were on Ramree Isle preparing to attack Rangoon from the sea. We Europeans had a few drinks, spirits only, while our Africans made some Pombi (beer) with dehydrated potatoes, which I tried. It was vile! Later on, my personal boy - I think he had five wives - came to my tent to tell me his best friend was dying after drinking that Pombi. Would I bring my Dawa Kali to make him well? When I asked which fierce medicine he meant, he indicated my tin of Andrews Liver Salts, which I used as a fizzy drink. He thought it was some kind of magic potion making me the Bwana Kali (Fierce Boss) that I was.

I duly went along to the African lines to his mate, who moaned that he was dying (anakoofwa). He certainly sounded ill. I made a big show of giving the magic Dawa — a mug of water and a spoonful of Andrews. ‘You must drink it all in one go’.

The effect on the dying Askari was dramatic and instant! He leapt up shouting ‘I’M CURED! I’M CURED!’ I hurried out with my precious Andrews before they saw me doubled up with laughter. I bet Andrews don’t know their liver salts saved the life of an African soldier!

I did notice, however, that my Andrews rapidly ran out and I got dysentery and malaria while my boy thrived. Was it coincidence?

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Graham Brown of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Alexander Donaldson and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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